What's Better Than a Superhero?
by Ridley C. James
Summary: Pre-Series. Wee-Winchester. Nine year old Dean Winchester learns the hard way that sometimes a cape and the ability to fly doesn't make a hero.


What's Better Than a Superhero?

By: Ridley James

Beta: Tidia

A/N: Because somebody needs to remind the writers of SN that Sam and Dean will always be brothers. Because I couldn't resist a small tag from this past episode, Thinman, highlighting the only part of the hour that touched my heart and reminded me there is still a glimmer of the characters I once loved. Of course I put a little Brotherhood twist on it. ;-) No spoilers for the episode as the story is from one line. I promise I am working on a much longer multi-chapter story due out in the next few weeks!

**noun[bruth-er]**

_a person who is there when you need him;_

_someone who picks you up when you fall; _

_the person who sticks up for you when no one else will; a friend for always_

He is my most beloved friend and my bitterest rival, my confidant and my betrayer, my sustainer and my dependent, and scariest of all, my equal.  
~ Gregg Levoy

RCJ

Nine year old Dean Winchester was on top of the world. The late March sky spread bright blue above him, large and luminous as ever, but closer now, almost reachable if he stretched his arms to their limit and stood on tiptoes. Bare branched treetops that once lumbered over him like multi-limbed giants had been brought down a notch or two by his ascension, now merely humbled sentries that might easily be felled by the right man. By _Superman_.

"It's really a long way down." Dean's five year old brother was on his hands and knees peering cautiously over the side of the old woodshed, bordering Pastor Jim's property, one of the lone standing remnants of a long abandoned homestead cabin and its surrounding structures. "Aren't you afraid?"

"Watch it, Sammy." Dean grabbed the ends of the black cape his little brother was wearing, making sure the younger boy didn't get too close and topple over. The ground loomed before them, making Dean feel a bit lightheaded. The pancakes Pastor Jim had made for breakfast were moving around a bit too much in the pit of Dean's stomach. He had to swallow hard to keep them from coming back up.

"Atticus Finch is smaller now," Sam waved wildly at the dog below them, unfazed by the dizzying height. "Hi, Atticus. Look at me!"

The Golden Retriever barked, his tail swishing as he peered up anxiously at the two boys perched on the rusted tin roof. He jumped up to paw at the rotting plank ladder Dean had found discarded in the overgrown bushes near the edge of the woods and had propped against the shed.

"Stay down, Boy," Dean called, shooting his brother a frown. "Sammy, I told you to stay with him so he wouldn't be scared."

"But I'm not a sidekick." Sam pulled his cape from Dean's hand, pointing to the yellow construction paper bat Caleb had drawn for Sam to cut out and pin on the front of his suit. "I'm Batman- your backup. _Atticus_ is Robin."

Atticus barked again. Dean shook his head at the dog's antics as it dashed around the corner looking for another way up, the yellow satin cape Sam had tied to his collar billowing behind him.

"He's your partner. You were supposed to stay with him."

"But I want to be _your_ partner." Sam squinted up at Dean, the sun glinting off his dark eyes that stood out starkly through the uneven slits in the makeshift cowl he was wearing. Dean had forged the mask out of one of Pastor Jim's discarded pillow cases. It was dark blue, not black, but Sam didn't seem to mind. "I want us to be partners forever."

Dean rolled his eyes at his brother's sincere proclamation. "Superman doesn't have a partner."

"He has super friends," Sam corrected. He started ticking off the multitudes of superheroes from his favorite Saturday cartoon.

"Not today," Dean interrupted, staring off into the distance where he could see the rooftop of the farmhouse, Jim's barn in the distance. He swallowed again, the lump that sprang to his throat at the mention of Superman's friends now the culprit instead of his disturbed breakfast. Dean clinched his fists in resolve. "I'm flying solo on this mission."

Sam crossed his arms over his thin chest, his chin thrust forward. "But what about Caleb?"

"What about him?" Dean snapped. Caleb Reaves was seventeen and well on his way to being a full-fledged hunter like Dean and Sam's father. He was also Dean's best friend _and_ he was an idiot.

"Uncle Bobby said Caleb should never have gone solo. Daddy called Caleb a name Pastor Jim says I shouldn't ever say for going out to hunt monsters alone and Mac said Caleb made a very bad choice and Mac is the smartest person I know."

"It wasn't Caleb's fault he got hurt!" Dean looked to the trees surrounding them. The first warm wind since winter had set in, making the foreboding limbs sway as if they were daring the nine year old to get on with it. "It was the stupid wood nymph."

"Wood nymphs are bad news." Sam said gravely as if he had actually encountered such a creature instead of just witnessing the damage it had inflicted on their favorite babysitter. It had nearly been a week. Caleb still supported the bruises and casted arm.

"Maybe, but I'm not going to be afraid of them." Dean would slay every wood nymph that dared cross his path or the paths of those he cared for. "I'm going to be brave just like a real superhero."

"We can be brave together." Sam stood up, reaching for Dean's hand. "Heroes have to stick together, just like brothers."

"No." Dean pulled away. "I have to do this on my own, Sammy. I can't let you get hurt. I have to get stronger, braver so I can protect you, so I can save people."

Sam put his hands on his hips. "I want to save people, too."

Dean sighed. "You're too little."

"No I'm not." Sam countered. "I'm almost six!"

Dean knew it was useless to argue with the younger boy. He was wasting time. Precious time he needed for practice before Pastor Jim realized he and Sam had wandered away from the farm. "Fine. You can do my countdown."

"Is that an important job?"

"Of course it is. How will I know it's time to fly unless you give me the signal, little brother?"

"What's the signal?" Sam's face had grown very serious, his body posture reflecting his commitment to this new assignment. It reminded Dean of the way the five year old took on every homework assignment.

"What do you want it to be?"

"How about Poughkeepsie?"

"That's perfect, Sammy."

Sam grinned at the praise, obviously pleased he'd conjured their secret codeword, the one they swore to keep always just between them. "You ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be, Batman." Dean turned to face the edge of the roof, backing up from the ledge to give himself running room. He readjusted the red cape tied around his neck, hoping it might provide some lift. He recalled the sermon he'd heard Pastor Jim practicing that morning in the library, the one about perfect faith giving people wings to fly. Just in case, Dean sent up a quick prayer to God before meeting Sam's gaze, nodding.

"Ready," Sam said softly.

Dean dug his feet in.

"Set," Sam continued.

Dean took a deep breath, every muscle in his body tightening in anticipation. The thundering of his heart blocked out every sound, the birds in the trees, the wind, Atticus's incessant barking. Sam's shout penetrated through the pounding.

"Poughkeepsie!"

Dean took off like a rocket, the edge of the roof appearing in an instant. Dean leaped into open sky and for a brief instant he was weightless and free. Fear was forgotten. Dean was capable of anything. He seemed to soar above the taunting trees. He was flying. He was an eagle. He was a jet plane. Dean Winchester was Superman.

Then gravity kicked in, fear reclaimed his heart, and the ground rose up to greet the nine- year-old in a most unforgiving way. Instinct took over and Dean was suddenly glad for the few times he'd been thrown by his father or Caleb in a sparring session. He let his knees give way as soon as he landed, tucking his head, rolling in a tiny ball. Dean's legs absorbed the worst of the shock, the rest rolling off his shoulder and upper back as he did a few flips to land on his back, staring up at the bright blue sky spread far above him, once more out of his grasp.

Atticus was at his side, whining and licking his face. Once Dean recaptured his breath, he began to laugh. It was uncontrollable, painful almost as it shook his battered body, the kind of hysterical laugh he remembered from the time Caleb took him for his first roller coaster ride at Six Flags when Dean's dad was working a job outside Atlanta. Dean was certain he might laugh so long and hard that he would throw up just like he had that day last summer, but then another rousing shout of Poughkeepsie had him scrambling to his feet in sheer panic.

"Sam! NO!"

The shot of fear Dean felt when his feet left the rooftop was nothing compared to the pure panic and adrenaline that enveloped him as he watched his little brother leap from the shed. The perception was so different on the ground, watching someone you love take the same leap you yourself just embraced.

Sam didn't look like an eagle, or a plane or anything like a superhero. He never once hung suspended in the air like Dean imagined he had. Sam looked like one of Miss Emma's fragile china saucers with the tiny blue cornflowers, knocked off the table in a moment of horseplay. As Dean raced forward he couldn't get the image of the plate out of his mind. The way it flew across the table out of Dean's reach, over the edge to drop straight to the floor before Caleb could catch it. The cherished saucer had fractured into what seemed a hundred pieces at the point of impact. Dean worried Sam would do the same, like Miss Emma's china, no amount of hot glue or cunning could put him back together again.

The dark thoughts spurned Dean forward, though once again his superpowers proved lacking, and he wasn't fast enough to catch his brother. Sam didn't fly apart upon hitting the ground. He landed with a sickening dull thud, more like a bag of grain tossed from the loft at the top of the barn than an irreplaceable plate shattering.

Dean slid to his knees beside his little brother who was lying prone and unmoving on the ground. He placed his hand on the small of Sam's back. The feel of the silky cape brought a stinging to Dean's eyes. Atticus nuzzled the boy with his snout, Dean having to push him back.

"Sammy? Sammy, are you okay?"

Sam took a gasping breath, then started to cry. Atticus let out a loud keening whine, sitting back on his haunches beside Sam. Dean wasn't sure if he should try to move his brother, but then Sam tried to push himself to his knees, yelping when he put weight on his hands.

"Take it easy. Are you okay?" Dean helped him the rest of the way, brushing the dirt and grass from the side of his face. Sam's attempt to catch himself had not been successful, his head taking some of the brunt. Sam's cheek was scraped and bleeding. He had his eyes squeezed shut, his face contorted into a grimace as he took quick panting breaths through his nose. It didn't take Dean long to understand why. His little brother's right arm was twisted at an impossible angle.

"My arm..." Sam managed between sobs. He opened his eyes to look at Dean. "My arm hurts..."

"It's okay, just breathe." Dean reached out and gripped Sam's chin. He felt anything but okay, and would have given up the pancake breakfast then and there if Sam hadn't looked so scared. "I'm sure it's okay. Just look at me, alright. Look at me."

"I'm sorry," Sam howled, holding his injured arm above the obvious break and rocking back and forth slightly.

"What the heck were you thinking?" Dean demanded before he could stop himself. "I told you not to jump off that building..."

"I thought I could fly, just like you." Sam started to cry harder, shaking now. "But my cape didn't work."

" 's okay, Sammy." Dean felt worse, if that were possible. Sam was his responsibility. It was his fault this had happened. "I'm going to get you all fixed up. Okay?"

"I want Daddy," Sam cried.

Dean untied the red cape from around his neck, ignoring Sam's request. The plea twisted something deep inside. Dean wasn't sure if it was because he wanted the exact same thing as Sam, or maybe because he felt he was the one who should be able to make things right for his brother. "Are you hurt anywhere else? Can you give me checklist?"

It was something they did each night at bath time. Dean hoped it might take his brother's mind off his misery as he reached to move Sam's hand away from his arm. "My head hurts a little." Sam sniffed, somewhat calmer. "Neck, check. Shoulders, check. Left arm-okay. Right arm, not so good."

Sam started to cry again and Dean jumped in. "What about your legs? Are they okay?"

"I'm going to need Scooby Doo on my knees." Sam gulped.

Dean assumed his brother was talking about the special band aids that Mac kept stocked for him. "I'm sure Jim has that supply Mac left him for Caleb."

The joke earned him a flash of dimple as Sam nodded, sniffing loudly. "Caleb says he doesn't like them, but I think he does."

"Damien just doesn't want anyone calling him a kid." Dean carefully maneuvered the cape across the younger boy's chest, thankful he'd watched Mac make a temporary sling for Caleb last week.

"This might hurt, but you trust me, right?"

Sam's tear-filled eyes stayed locked on Dean. He bobbed his head up and down, biting his lip in anticipation of what was to come. Dean made quick work of the bandage, holding his breath as he quickly tied the ends around Sam's neck.

"We'll be back at the house in no..."

"Sam! Dean!"

The shout startled them both. It was faint, coming from across the field that would take them straight to Jim's.

"Caleb." Sam's lip started to tremble again. More tears slid down his cheeks as he looked from Dean to the acres of hay separating them from the older boy, who continued to shout for both of them.

"Come on." Dean helped his brother up, grabbing one of the old bikes Bobby had fixed up for him and Sam. They had ridden them to the shed that morning, bumping along the overgrown wagon trail farmers used long ago to bring in crops to the barns that were now torn down. "We'll meet him half way."

Sam had a hard time climbing onto the handle bars, but with a little help and encouragement from Dean, he managed. Dean kept one hand on his brother's belt loop, the other on the steering wheel as he took off on the dirt path, avoiding as many of the ruts as possible. Atticus Finch raced ahead, barking. It wasn't long before Caleb and Jim came into view, the pastor slightly in the lead as Caleb limped along as quick as he could manage behind him.

"Thank God." Dean heard Jim say as they crested the small rise and came into full view of the hunters.

"Sammy's hurt!" Dean brought the bike to a skidding stop in front of the pastor, his eyes seeking out Caleb who had made it to The Guardian's side.

"Are you two alright?" Caleb reached a hand out to help Sam off the bike. "I felt something happen..."

"My cape didn't work." Sam didn't give the teen time to finish, nearly leaping into his arms. He wrapped his good arm around Caleb's neck, burying his face against the older boy's chest. "It's no good, Caleb. No good at all."

"What's he talking about, my boy?" Jim locked his blue gaze on Dean, placed a hand along Sam's back.

"I think his arm's broken. It looks bad." Dean raised his guilty gaze to the pastor, knowing he was not answering The Guardian's question. Distraction and re-direction always worked for Caleb. "He needs a doctor, Jim."

"My arm is broken!" Sam howled his misery, reacting much worse now that he had an audience. "It's broken into lots and lots of pieces just like Ms Emma's plate yesterday."

"Runt, calm down." Caleb gripped the little boy tighter, careful of the red triangle bandage Dean had managed. "I'm pretty sure you've not done anything that we can't fix."

"But it hurts." Sam sniffed in a way that had Dean wanting to jump on the bike and make an escape. "It hurts really, really bad."

"I'm sure it does, my boy." Jim shared a look with Caleb. "Can you manage him?"

"I've got him." Caleb moved his gaze to Dean. "Deuce and I will take care of Sammy."

"I'll go get the keys to your jeep, then." Jim reached out and squeezed Dean's shoulder, making the nine year old's eyes burn. "We'll all take a quick run into New Haven to see the good Doctor McCroy."

Dean watched the pastor take off in a fast jog, Atticus right on his heels.

"You alright, Deuce?"

Dean climbed off the bike, letting it fall on the worn path. "I'm not the one who got hurt."

"Dean's cape really worked," Sam lifted his head off of Caleb's shoulder, shooting his brother a glance and a tearful smile that eased Dean's guilt considerably. "Dean flew really high."

"That's because he's Superman, Runt." Caleb winked at Dean, rubbed a hand over Sam's hair. The assurance mercifully removing more of the weight from Dean's shoulders. "Didn't anyone ever tell you Batman can't fly?"

RCJ

"I'm not really up on my superheroes these days, but I'm pretty sure Batman doesn't fly." Dr. Elizabeth McCroy was standing in front of a lighted board, pointing to the X-ray of Sam's arm. She turned to face the patient on the examination table. Dean felt Sam's hand tighten on his even though the doctor's smile was nice, her voice calm. "This broken bone proves that little boys shouldn't try."

"I knew I needed a utility belt," Sam offered shyly, his gaze flickering from the doctor to Caleb where it quickly turned accusing. "Told you so."

"Hey, don't look at me, Runt. I was in charge of insignias. I had no idea the costume was going to need to be functional."

"From the looks of it, your big brother might need to have his own utility belt." The doctor nodded to Caleb's casted arm, the bandage on his head. "You two are going to have matching plaster."

"Caleb's not my big brother," Sam asserted. "But he's my dad's brother, sometimes."

"Sometimes?" The doctor raised a brow and Dean noted that Pastor Jim suddenly seemed very interested in the medical supplies on the nearby table.

"He disowns me at the drop of a hat," Caleb was quick to offer an explanation. Dean recognized the easy smile, the way he ducked his head and gave a slight shrug. "Mostly I'm his underpaid, greatly unappreciated babysitter and manservant."

"I see."

"Dean's _my_ big brother always." Sam pointed to Dean who was trying to make himself invisible. He had avoided being included in the conversation up until this point. He had kept quiet sentry during Sam's examination and trip to radiology, letting Pastor Jim handle the typical questions and paperwork. Even the ride to the hospital had allowed him a reprieve as Caleb regaled Sam with tales of his own broken bone experiences, ones that Dean was certain by the disapproving frowns Jim was shooting the teen, were greatly exaggerated. The gory tales had kept Sam's mind off his pain, and put off Dean's confession, but now all eyes were on him. "I would never disown him," Sam vowed, his voice ringing with confidence.

"You must be the genuine article, Dean."

The doctor's words were Dean's undoing. He let go of Sam's hand and ran for the door, not even stopping when he heard Sam call out for him to come back. Once he was out of the room, Dean turned right, running down the long white corridor, past the nurses' desk and straight into the stairwell where he took the steps two at a time until he reached the top floor.

New Haven General wasn't a big hospital. It was probably tiny compared to the ones where Mac worked sometimes in New York, but it did have a maternity ward, which is where Dean found himself at the end of his sprint. A large row of windows greeted him, displaying tiny beds lined up. A couple contained bundles of wriggling wrinkled red-faced babies swaddled tightly in blankets, a tiny hand flailing here and there, white bracelets proclaiming them the newest members to happy families.

Dean pressed his forehead against the cool glass, a faint memory playing at the edges of his mind. His father had once brought him to such a place, proudly pointing out Dean's brand new baby brother. Sam had blinked widely up at them as if he had somehow known who was on the other side of the partition. Dean had never seen anything so small and helpless. It took a while for his four year old brain to comprehend that this new little person in front of him, this 'Baby Winchester,' was the same 'little brother' who'd been hanging out inside his mom for the last nine months. Dean had fallen harder than he did for the puppy he'd cried for at the pet shop in the mall near their house. Sam was love at first sight.

"Deuce?"

The hand on his shoulder had him turning around, latching onto Caleb in a way that would have him cringing in embarrassment later on. He buried his head against the teen's coat, praying the tears on his face wouldn't soak through the thick fabric, wouldn't give away the fact he was pretty much acting like one of the babies whaling just beyond.

To Caleb's credit he didn't let on if he knew the truth. He stood still, his hand staying put on Dean's shoulder, strong and anchoring. He gave the younger boy the time he needed to find his way back, to fight free from the other images this place stirred, the ones of Dean's mom smiling from her hospital bed, her arms open wide as she beckoned Dean to crawl up on her lap with the new baby. She'd kissed Dean's head, hugged both boys tight to her chest. Dean could almost smell her hair; hear the beat of her heart through the soft cotton of her gown.

"You alright?"

The question brought Dean completely back to the present. Caleb had moved them out of the hallway, maneuvering them to a bench out of sight, one nestled in a little hallway off from the elevators. Dean nodded. He let Caleb go, collapsing onto the seat.

"Talk to me." Caleb sat down beside him, the rough edge of his cast brushing against Dean's arm.

"It's all my fault Sammy got hurt."

"I thought the malfunctioning cape was at fault."

Dean glared up at the other boy, not about to take the offer of lighthearted humor. "I was supposed to be watching him. He's my responsibility!"

"I was supposed to be watching you both. When your dad's out of town I'm in charge of you two."

Dean frowned, liking the attempt at logic even less than he had the banter. "You're hurt. You had to stay in the house-doctor's orders. Pastor Jim let us go outside. He's The Guardian, so he's in charge of everybody."

"You really think John's going to let that slide." Caleb smirked. "I'm so going to be disowned for this."

"Which is also my fault!" Dean started to get up, his eyes burning again.

"Hey, no, that's not what I meant." Caleb gripped Dean's wrist, preventing the nine year old from fleeing again. He sighed heavily. "Look, Deuce, cut me some slack, okay. I'm working at a disadvantage here."

Dean stayed where he was, swiping a quick hand over his face to erase any trace of tears. "Meaning all the pain meds are keeping you from snooping in my head."

"_Meaning_, you've reverted back to mute boy the last few hours, and since I'm already lacking other means of communication, and rusty on my sign language, it's freaking me out a little."

Dean understood what his friend was saying. Caleb was afraid for him. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"I'm worried-completely different thing."

"Sure it is." Dean might have only been nine, but if there was one thing he knew all about it was being afraid for those he loved. It was what had gotten him in this mess in the first place.

"Is that why you ran off? Because you were worried about Sammy? The doc says it's a clean break. She said it would heal quickly. The Runt will be back to new in a couple of weeks."

"But he shouldn't have been hurt in the first place. Don't you get it? I'm the one who climbed up on that building. I'm the one who was practicing flying."

"Speaking of, what the hell were you thinking? Flying?" Caleb's gold eyes flashed. "You know better than that. You could have really been hurt, or worse."

Dean flinched at the change in the older boy's tone of voice and the irony that he'd demanded almost the same question of Sam was not lost on him.

He glanced away. "I just wanted to practice."

"Practice what? Giving me gray hair? Taking years off my life?"

Dean returned his gaze to the teen, straightening his shoulders. "Being brave."

"That doesn't make sense." Caleb shook his head. "How does pretending to be Superman and jumping head first into trouble make you brave?"

"It seems to work for you!" Dean snapped. "Or does you going after a wood nymph by yourself suddenly make sense?"

"Dude, that's completely different."

"Then why did you do it?" Dean knew Caleb wanted to be a hunter, wanted his ring, but being reckless was an unforgivable sin, one Dean already had to deal with from his father. "Why did you go without telling Dad or Mac?"

"I went because...damn it, Dean it doesn't matter why I went. I'm seventeen not nine."

"That's what I thought."

"No, it's not what you thought." Caleb ran his hand through his hair, glancing around them before turning back to Dean. He lowered his voice. "If you must know I went because I was tired of seeing what that thing was doing. I watched it kill two people, Deuce, saw it all in my head, night after night. I had to try and save them."

"Did you know them?" Dean hadn't thought about his friend's visions, that aspect still confusing to him.

"No, but that doesn't matter. They were innocent."

"But if it had been someone you knew, someone you loved...me or Sammy..." Dean would use what he needed to make his friend see why taking that leap of faith off the building had been anything but careless.

"Don't say that."

"But if it had?"

"Then I would have done anything to save you."

"Then we're the same."

"Now I'm the one who doesn't understand," Caleb raised his hands in frustration. "What does me going on a hunt have to do with you jumping off a building with nothing but a flimsy piece of fabric tied around your neck? You _know_ people can't fly. You're not naive like Sam, never have been. I hate it like hell, but you know better. You know the truth about these things."

"I do know. I know a lot!" Dean knew things no one his age should know. Things nobody would ever want to know. "The sooner I get braver, the sooner I can become a hunter, a real hunter with a ring. I can watch your back. I can watch Sammy's back." Dean licked his lips, rushing on before Caleb could counter. "But I'm not brave. I can't do anything right."

"Deuce, you're the bravest person I know." Caleb's voice gentled, the way it did when the grownups weren't around and Sam wanted a story, or when Dean would wake up with a nightmare, so shaken and out of it that he couldn't speak, couldn't breathe. "You don't need a ring for that, it's just who you are."

"That's not true." Dean bit his lip. "I suck at being a superhero."

"A superhero?" Caleb gripped his wrist again, squeezing until Dean looked up at him. "Is that really what you want to be?"

"Yes. Like Dad, Mac and Bobby. Like you."

"Dude, I don't want to be a superhero."

"You don't?" The quick answer puzzled Dean for a moment. Caleb's whole world seemed to revolve around following in the footsteps of Dean's father, his goal to emulate the Musketeers from his favorite book.

"No, that's not why I want to be a hunter, that's not why I want a ring."

"Then why do you do it?"

"I do it because I learned a long time ago that being a big brother is sometimes way better than being a superhero." Caleb gave Dean's wrist another gentle squeeze before letting him go. "Deuce, you're the best big brother I know."

Dean kept his eyes on the older teen, looking for any hint that his friend was trying to make him feel better, letting him off the hook because sometimes Caleb saw the good in people, even when he shouldn't. This time however, Dean could tell the older boy believed everything he was saying, even if Dean wasn't convinced it was true. "Then I guess we really are the same."

Caleb grinned. "Does that mean that if I promise to not to go on anymore solo hunts, you'll promise to turn in your Superman cape and not jump off anymore buildings?"

"That sounds fair." Dean would agree to almost anything if it kept Caleb out of harm's way and besides the nine year old was beginning to think that maybe conquering his fear of flying wasn't really the way to go. Maybe he'd start with bears.

"Good." Caleb stood, offered him a hand up. "And just so we're clear, Sammy getting hurt is not your fault."

Dean let the older boy pull him to standing, didn't even pretend to mind when Caleb tossed his good arm over Dean's shoulders in a reuse to guide him to the row of elevators. "I have to take care of him, Damien."

Caleb pushed the button to bring the car to them. "I get that, believe me I do, but sometimes no matter how hard you try, the people you love get hurt. Being a superhero does not make a guy invincible, and even the best big brothers are not bullet proof."

When the doors opened he and Caleb stepped in. "Then I'll just have to become something else."

"Yeah," Caleb punched the button that would take them back to the first floor before turning to stare at Dean. "What's that, Kiddo?"

Dean held the older boy's gaze, realizing he'd been thinking about it all wrong. He didn't need a cape and he didn't need comic book heroes, not when he had The Brotherhood.

"I'm going to be a dragon."

The End…for now.


End file.
